


Skin Deep

by destimushi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Biting, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Knotting, M/M, Miscommunication, Secret Santa, Vampire Dean, Vampire Dean Winchester, Wedding Night, Werewolf Castiel, dau secret santa, when they use the words good things happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 13:05:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13214361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destimushi/pseuds/destimushi
Summary: “I know this isn’t your ideal wedding night,” he says. “It certainly isn’t mine.”It was a farce of a wedding, with two unwilling grooms and two disgruntled superpowers shoved into the same confined space of the ceremonial chamber. The animosity in the room was tangible, thick and charged with malice and barely contained violence.Werewolves and vampires. Lifelong enemies. Neither strong enough now to survive on their own in a world where Hunters roam the streets. They need to unite to survive.But whoever thought an arranged marriage between the first sons of the Novak clan and the Winchester clan needs to be mauled then drained. In that order, so the numbing venom from the vampire’s teeth can’t dampen the pain.





	Skin Deep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aceriee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aceriee/gifts).



> Here's my DAU secret santa gift to the wonderful and talented [Aceriee](https://missaceriee.tumblr.com/)! Hopefully, this tickles you in all the right places ;).

A bite can kill him, but Dean wants it.

No, he doesn’t have a death wish, but biting _does_ it for him, always have and always will.

Looking at the familiar figure sitting in the leather chair by the grand fireplace, Dean sighs. Castiel’s unruly mop of hair is pitch black in the dancing shadows cast by the flames, and his crystal blue eyes glow with purposeful anger.“I know this isn’t your ideal wedding night,” he says. “It certainly isn’t mine.”

Dean bristles beneath his thick, fluffy robe, and clenches his fist until the sharp tips of his nails dig into his palm. The sharp scent of blood assaults his senses, and the sweet aroma of the sacrificial altar boy fires his blood. He was more man than boy, devoted servant of the Winchester clan, and gave himself up for Dean to devour before the wedding ceremony.

It was a farce of a wedding, with two unwilling grooms and two disgruntled superpowers shoved into the same confined space of the ceremonial chamber. The animosity in the room was tangible, thick and charged with malice and barely contained violence.

Werewolves and vampires. Lifelong enemies. Neither strong enough now to survive on their own in a world where Hunters roam the streets. They need to unite to survive.

But whoever thought an arranged marriage between the first sons of the Novak clan and the Winchester clan needs to be mauled then drained. In that order, so the numbing venom from the vampire’s teeth can’t dampen the pain.

Dean knows he’s not Castiel Novak’s first choice for a mate, but Dean’s no troll under the bridge, and if he’s honest with himself, he didn’t think the werewolf sitting a few feet away from him is one either. There’s no love between them, but there is lust. Dean felt the raw need in the weight of Castiel’s gaze when they were introduced all those moons ago, and the sweet draw of his supernatural blood lit a fire in the pit of Dean’s stomach.

They had no clue what their fathers were planning then. All those moons ago, when Dean and Castiel met under the cloak of hushed nights, eager hands fueled by passion and a desire to rebel, they were not aware how dangerous the game was.

Truth is, Dean got too close. When John Winchester strolled into his room and announced he was to wed the eldest Novak as a tie to bring the two warring clans together, Dean was pleased.

Judging by the scowl on Castiel’s face, he didn’t share Dean’s elation at the news. Well, fuck him.

“I didn’t sit around thinking about my ideal wedding night,” Dean says, and he’s glad his voice does not betray his upset. “Unlike you pups daydreaming about wedding nights and rituals and ‘the chase’”—Dean air quotes—“we learned how to hunt. How to survive.”

Castiel’s eyes flash in the shadows, his voice icy. “Insult me again, Winchester, and I’ll see you burn at the next sunrise.”

“Winchester? Just a week ago I was ‘baby’ and ‘God’ and—”

Castiel lunges from his chair and eats up the space between them, pushing Dean into the lush sheets of their consummate bed. He cuts Dean off as much with his words as he does with the weight of his body as he crowds into Dean’s personal space, clawed hands gripping Dean’s wrists. “This doesn’t bother you?”

“What choice do we have?” Dean glares into deep, hateful eyes, and a little part of himself dies. Castiel really doesn’t want this, doesn’t want Dean. All those nights Dean spent falling a little more in love with the blue-eyed werewolf, Castiel had used him, spared him no more thought than one gives a silicone masturbator.

“This isn’t the stone ages. We can say no.”

“Where was your bravado before the ceremony? A bit late now to back out, don’t you think?” Something flitters across Castiel’s face, but he stays silent. “Besides, it’s not like you don’t enjoy fucking me.”

“This is—I thought—”

“That’s where you went wrong, _Cas_ ,” Dean grits. “You pups’ got your Alphas doing the thinking for you—”

Lips hot as the sun smashes into Dean’s mouth and eats the rest of his sentence like a man starved. Dean’s fists tighten around silken sheets, his mouth opening to the sweet press of Castiel’s tongue before he’s aware of what’s happening. He’s tasted this mouth so many times, traced those blunt human teeth until they protrude with sharpness, but Castiel’s always careful not to break skin.

A sharp prick on his bottom lip and Dean panics as the sticky sweetness of blood floods his mouth. “What the fuck—”

Castiel pulls back and grins, and his perfect, blunt teeth are stained red. “Did you think I’d actually bite you?” He smiles, but there’s a shift in Castiel that both terrifies and exhilarates Dean. The anger is gone, replaced by something sinister, something...guarded.

“The thought crossed my mind.”

“You’re mine now, Winchester. _Dean_. Sold to me like a cheap whore, and I’ll use you as such.”

The words are meant to sting, but they don’t. Instead, they turn the key in the coffin of Dean’s resignation. He knows what he is in this transaction of clan power, he just hoped Castiel liked him a little more than a warm hole.

John realized Dean’s value when he saw Dean could never be the leader his younger brother, Sam, could be. He’d drilled it into Dean until Dean himself believed it. The spark of hope Dean found in Castiel was just wishful thinking, and he should have known better.

But that doesn’t mean Dean will take it lying down. “Say what you want, you’re still just a glorified beta with daddy issues.”

Castiel’s smile doesn’t reach his cold, glittering eyes. “Ah, but you don’t know the clan tradition.” He shifts and wedges a knee between Dean’s spread legs, pushing the robe open to reveal Dean’s nakedness beneath. It’s so unfair that Castiel gets to keep his clothes when Dean was forced to change into this ridiculous robe. “When the eldest son of the clan leader breeds his mate, he becomes the alpha.”

It’s the way Castiel growls the word _breed_ that steals Dean’s breath, and despite his not-so-sunny disposition, his body reacts to the raw dominance of Castiel’s physical presence. “I’m not some bitch in heat.”

“No, but you’re my bitch now, and I’ll use you however I want.” The twitch of Castiel’s lips is the only warning Dean has before Castiel yanks his hands out from under him. They fall into the pile of soft pillows, the mattress dips in invitation beneath Dean even as Castiel’s weight suffocates and presses into him.

Dean’s body reacts to Castiel’s like it always does, with eagerness and a yearning so all-encompassing Dean loses himself. One strong hand gather his wrists and shoves his arms above his head, the other working loose Castiel’s silk tie. Dean tests the restraining hold and grins when he can’t break free. Werewolves aren’t known for their clever schemes, but they make up for it with brute strength. It’s one of the things Dean loves so much about Castiel.

With nimble fingers, Castiel wraps his tie around Dean’s wrists and ties a bruising knot, then rears back to stare down at Dean. Something bright and fleeting—a split second of vulnerability—crosses Castiel’s face, and Dean thinks he imagines it until Castiel says, “What the fuck are we doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why aren’t you fighting?”

“You want me to fight you?”

“Yes—no, not this, never this.” Castiel glances down the infinitesimal gap between their bodies before his eyes snap up to smother Dean in a blanket of fierce blue. “I mean this stupid wedding. You know it won’t work, right? Werewolves and vampires have been at war since the beginning of our creation. What makes you think a marriage will fix that?”

“We can’t know until we try.”

“Is that...is that all I am to you?”—Huh?—“I thought—”

“There you go, thinking again,” Dean teases despite himself.

Cas growls in his face before continuing, “I thought we had something.”

Dean blinks, and for the first time in his long, unnatural life, he’s stunned into silence. Cas thought—but he’s so angry—and why is he looking at Dean like that? Like a kicked puppy that doesn’t know what he did to deserve it. It’s those goddamn puppy dog eyes, and suddenly Dean feels like the jackass that swung the boot. “ _I_ thought we had something, too.”

“Then why did you agree to this wedding?”

“Uh, guy I think is smoking hot and enjoy fucking is also going to save my clan from extinction, and all I have to do is keep doing what I’m doing? A bit of a no-brainer,” Dean says with an arched brow, then, after a heartbeat of consideration, adds, “And I think, I might be falling a little in love with him.”

Cas’ eyes glow, actually glow, but instead of the usual blue, it’s tinged with veins of red. “What did you say?”

“What, that I might be a little in love with you?”

“God, Dean.” Cas swallows. “I didn’t want to marry you because I’m also a little in love with you.”

“Okay, Einstein, explain yourself?”

“I wanted, fuck”—Cas huffs, his brows pinching—“I wanted it to be real. I want the world to know when I knot you, it’s because I care for you. And now they’ll never know. Everything I do, they’ll attribute to this marriage, to this—this—show we put on.”

“Aw, that’s actually kinda swee—wait wait wait, _knot_ _me_?” Holy shit.

Cas’ cheeks grow pink, and he leans so close Dean is basked in the heat of his flushed skin. “I’ve been...holding back. When we, you know, in the past. And I won’t unless you’re okay with it.”

“Isn’t knotting, like, kind of a big deal?”

“Yes.”

“And you want to...with me?”

“Since the first time we slept together.”

“As I recall, there wasn’t much sleeping.” Dean winks.

“Jackass,” Cas growls and closes the gap between them with a kiss.

It’s a soft thing, feather-light brushes of lips and warm breaths. Darting tongues pressing against each other in lazy strokes, never lingering, always fleeting. Dean basks in the sweetness of Cas’ blood, in the pungent smell of his arousal as he rediscovers Dean’s mouth in unhurried strokes.

The rock in the pit of Dean’s stomach dissipates into butterflies, wings beating an erratic rhythm as Dean leans into the kiss with a sense of relief. Cas loves him, wants to cherish him, and most importantly, wants to show his affection to the world. Dean’s never been a romantic, but the sincerity and innocence behind Cas’ words warm his heart, even if Cas wants to knot him. Dean’s not sure what that will be like, only that when a werewolf knots his mate, they’re bonded for life.

And for Dean and Cas, that’s a long, long time.

They’ve only known each other for a short while, but the bond between them, the feeling of belonging, of becoming whole when they’re together, feels as old as time. Dean doesn’t mind the idea of spending eternity with Cas, kind of even likes the idea of it.

Dean pulls away from the kiss, his head sinking into the pillow as he stares up at Cas. His eyes glow brightly, the veins of red are thicker than before, and his lips are kiss-swollen and glistening. “Cas, dammit, lets do it.”               

“You sure?”

“For the longevity of our peoples, I guess I’ll take one for the team.” Dean wiggles and Cas burst out laughing. The sound rolls throw Dean, vibrates down to his soul until he’s shaking with jubilance himself. Fuck, he wants to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

When Cas flips him on his stomach, Dean’s aching cock twitches into silken sheets, and he gasps with the sudden need to be stretched and filled. To be claimed. To be bitten.

His fingers find the metal rails of the headboard, and he hangs onto them as Cas yanks his hips up and kicks his knees apart. They’ve done this before, but never with this much urgency. Never with Cas growling continuously, the sound a low hum, as he rakes pointed nails down Dean’s flank. It hurts, but the pain brings a level of clarity that knocks the breath from Dean’s lungs. Or perhaps it’s Cas’ fingers—all three, wet with slick—pushing into Dean’s hole.

The stretch of Cas’ cock drives the air from Dean’s lungs, and his fingers tighten around the railing. He’s never been fuller than when Cas is inside him, nails biting into his hips, and when Cas pulls back, Dean keens.

Unlike in the past where Cas is an evil, evil tease who enjoys bringing Dean to the brink over and over without release, who delights in taking Dean apart with the edge of his claws or the flat side of a well-swung leather belt, tonight there is no elusive touch. No prolonging the sweet agony of denial and release. Just an animalistic need. Dean’s need to be fucked, and perhaps, Cas’ need to claim his mate.

Cas plucks Dean’s body like a well-tuned instrument, and Dean sings for him until his throat is raw. With each precise stroke of Cas’ cock, Dean edges closer and closer to the abyss, but he’s stuck there, teetering on the edge as frustrated tears spring to the corners of his eyes.

“Cas—please. Please please please. I need it—”

“C-can’t control it,” Cas gasps. “Too dangerous.”

“You can. Fuck. You can. Please.” Dean’s hips rock back, nails making a mess of the flesh of his palms as he pleads into the saliva drenched sheets.

Another stroke, solid flesh brushing against his prostate, and Dean’s knees slip further along the sheets until he’s spread impossibly wide. He’s a goddamn vampire, and he needs the bite of teeth, needs the pain of being claimed.

A werewolf’s bite is lethal to a vampire.

The pain is fuzzy at first, the kiss of butterfly wings on his skin, then it grows sharper, and Dean hones in on the sting of teeth in his shoulder. Blunt, human teeth, but Cas is biting hard enough it breaks the skin.

However, it’s only fatal if the bite is delivered by the beast.

Dean comes undone with a blinding flash of white light and a shout. When he comes to his senses, body boneless, Cas is draped over his back, gasping breath warm and jagged with a hint of blood. Dean turns his head, lips searching for a lazy kiss, when the burning stretch shocks him from his stupor.

“C-Cas?” He asks into the space in front of him. “Is that—”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas pulls Dean onto his side, then reaches up to untie Dean’s wrists. Blood rushes into his abused fingers, and the tips tingle with warmth. Cas pulls Dean close, his chest pressing into Dean’s back, and plants a soft kiss behind the shell of Dean’s ear. “I...I’ve never done this with someone, I don’t know how long it’ll take.”

“Christ, it’s huge,” Dean gasps and takes a deep breath. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s a fullness Dean’s never experienced. It grows, expanding slowly, and when Dean thinks he’s going to snap from the pressure, the knot stills. “So, we gotta, like, just wait for it to go away?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I guess there are worse ways to spend time together.” Dean snuggles back against Cas and winces when the knot shifts inside him. Fuck, this is going to need some getting used to. “And Cas?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t care what others think. This is real. To me.” A moment of silence, then the dry heat of Cas’ lips press against the back of Dean’s neck. “I love you, fleabag.”

Cas hums, and the vibrations seep through Dean’s skin. “Love you too, you blood-sucking mosquito.”

   


End file.
